


Rain

by tiger7210



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Angst AF, F/M, God These Kids, guess who can't just fucking talk to each other? these kids, lots of yelling, there's some kissing at the end tho so I guess there's that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 13:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger7210/pseuds/tiger7210
Summary: He saved the kingdom from the twilight. He accepted the Princess' marriage proposal. He held her heart so utterly that at times it took her breath away. But one evening, he vanishes from the castle with nothing but a note as goodbye. In the rain, she goes to find him. Post-TP Zelink. Happy birthday Kelly!





	

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a little while, hasn’t it?
> 
> College is super hard and a lot more work than I thought. Finding the time to write things is difficult. But rest assured that I haven’t given up on any of my fics, and I WILL FINISH THEM EVENTUALLY! Just…maybe it’ll take a little longer.
> 
> I’ve completely finished Breath of the Wild, so you can expect a few little things here and there in the future as I sort out my feelings for those characters.
> 
> IN TERMS OF THIS STORY THO. Post-TP Zelink. Canon compliant. It was originally supposed to be finished a while ago as a birthday present for @Sparkly Faerie but then life got in the way and I made her wait. But you can totally blame her for this angst train because it’s totally what she asked for. So there. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy, and see you at the end! 
> 
> ~Alyssa

 It was raining.

Zelda pulled the hood of her cloak closer against the chill as she hurried through the alleyways, ducking under the cover of overhangs when she could.

Not that it mattered, really. The downpour was such that she had been soaked to the skin within moments; any attempt to stay dry was as futile as it was inconvenient. Still, she had always been stubborn, and the little shreds of dignity that she had remaining absolutely refused to be rained on.

She hated the rain.

She hated the way it sucked the color from her city, blocking out the sun and casting it in bluish greyish dark. She hated the way it killed the sounds of the marketplace, forcing everyone with sense indoors. And most ardently, she remarked as persistent droplets streamed down her face, she hated the way it made her look as though she had been crying.

Red eyes and aching heart aside, she hadn’t been crying. Queens didn’t cry, but even if they did, Zelda was made of much stronger mettle than most.

Something like this, something that she had truly foreseen ages ago, was not nearly enough to make her cry.

The sniffles were from the cold. If she didn’t get inside soon, she’d catch a chill.

_If only Link could see me now,_ she thought ruefully as she skirted through the puddles, _running through the torrents like a madwomen with soiled skirts, no guard, and no sense._ What he’d think of her.

A few months ago it might have been enough to throw him into a fit. He was forever worried for her safety, and needlessly putting herself at risk this way was one thing she couldn’t imagine him taking. After he found her safe, dry, and bundled by a fire, he would have spent the next hour pacing a hole in the floor in front of her.

“It’s not my place to tell you anything, but not even a guard?” he would have asked her, running his hands tersely through his hair. “Were you even armed?”

“No,” she would have admitted, because the thought wouldn’t have even occurred to her in her haste. And he would have taken her up in his arms and pressed a kiss to her head, eliciting a promise to take him with her next time.

Words he had said to her once flickered in her head.

_"Though I’m weary for more adventure, your highness, I’d make an exception for you.”_

The words that had so often given her comfort now made her stomach lurch. From that to a note. Goddesses, how disillusioned she’d been.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran up her spine, and she quickened her pace.

She was trembling by the time she turned the corner into an opening in the alleys, darting from the cover of shadow into the open glow of a torch burning under an overhang near a half-open window.

She blinked at the sign above the door. Telma’s Bar.

Her feet almost carried her away on the spot. These people were friends of Link’s. He had spent many an afternoon whiling away the time with his friends from the Resistance, or visitors from his hometown in this very place.

But the glow of the fire she could see through the window beckoned her. Though the people that often could be found here were _his_ friends, they had never been anything but respectful toward her. Her aching bones and chattering teeth--when had they started chattering?--urged her forward, into the light and warmth of the tavern.

Link wouldn’t be there. He was long gone.

Heat rushed forward as she opened the door, and she shuddered, quickly closing it behind her as she retreated within.

The bar was as quiet as could be expected for this time of night; it wasn’t the sort of place that catered to the raunchier patrons that came to drink themselves regularly into oblivion. Instead, only a few of the many tables were occupied, customers speaking in muted voices as they shared a hearty meal. The place wasn’t the finest in the city, but it was certainly well-kept, warm light spilling from the fireplace and dancing merrily across the grey stone walls.

But aside from the heat, of course, it was the bartender that immediately caught her attention. Telma was a woman larger than life that took no nonsense, and when she caught sight of Zelda, she was absolutely impossible to contain.

“Din’s blood, child!” She had bustled around the counter in an instant, pulling her sodden hood away and reaching up to cup her stinging cheeks. “Has all sense left that pretty head of yours? You’ll catch your death out there like this!”

Telma’s hands were warm, and they shocked the life back into her, at least for a moment. She had never been more appreciative of the older woman’s breaches of propriety. “I hadn’t realized how much it was raining when I left.” Zelda’s voice was hoarse, tired. She sounded nothing like herself, but if the old matron noticed, she didn’t say.

“You should have turned yourself right around when you did. Out in the rain, at this time of night? I’m not so special that you couldn’t have waited to see me tomorrow!”

“Something...came up,” she tried, but Telma had always been able to see through her evasive nonsense. Properly shamed, Zelda averted her gaze. “Please don’t make me speak of it. Truly, I needed to get away. I’ll need to answer many questions when I return, and I cannot--” Her breath hitched in her throat, and she swallowed hard. Queens did _not_ cry. “I cannot speak to them now.”

Concern knitted Telma’s brow. She waited for a just a moment before patting Zelda’s cheek, her voice a shade softer than before. “Then why don’t you get yourself out of those wet things and take a seat, dear. I have some stew that will bring the color right back to those cheeks.”

“I’m not-” Zelda began, but a stern look from the older woman left no room for rebuttal.

“All right,” she sighed.

She made her way over to the hearth as Telma disappeared behind the bar, removing her dripping cloak as she went. Unfortunately, the dress hadn’t fared much better; she was thoroughly drenched, fabric heavy and skirts muddied. She would soil any chair she sat on. Still, the roaring fire was too warm to resist, and she crouched down in front of it, rubbing her numb hands together. Though it did little to thaw her aching heart, it was a small comfort to her freezing skin.

After a time, Telma returned with a steaming bowl, placing it on the table by the hearth as she came to stand by the fire as well. She took a fistfull of Zelda’s sleeve, tsking with reproach as she felt the soaked fabric. “You won’t be dry before summer at this rate. Why don’t you go upstairs and change?”

“As much as I appreciate the gesture, I don’t think you would have anything that would fit.”

“A nightgown doesn’t need to be snug, does it?”

Zelda’s ears tinged red. “I couldn’t impose.”

“Nonsense,” Telma dropped the sleeve, crossing her arms. “The rain won’t let up for hours yet, and your young man would have my hide if I let you trudge through the city in the state you’re in now.”

Zelda bit her cheek, fighting against the tears that had begun to well.

“Room four is empty,” Telma said as she extracted a link of keys from her apron pocket, pulling one off and pressing it into her hand. “No need to thank me. I’ll send up some clothes and your food when I can. If you decide to want to talk, you know where to find me.”

Zelda opened her mouth, but Telma had already turned on her heel, waving a hand over her shoulder as she went. “I said, no need to thank me. Now, upstairs with you!”

There was no sense in arguing with Telma.

Pausing for a moment to hang her cloak on a peg by the hearth, she crossed the room to the staircase with her key in hand. The pounding rain on the rooftop above drowned out the sound of her ascent as she climbed to the second floor, turning the familiar corner into the hallway above.

Only to come face to face with the man that had put her into this wretched state in the first place.

He was dressed for travel, in plain colors with worn boots and a cloak not unlike her own that covered much of his face. But even covered, in the dark, and frozen with shock, there was no mistaking the form of the man that held her heart.

“You’re all wet,” Link said.

She gaped at him, unable to speak.

It had been so long since she’d seen him this way.

Ever since he’d accepted her proposal, he’d abandoned the simple clothes that he’d worn in the south in favor of the court attire befitting a man of his station. She had become accustomed to seeing him smart in a fitting jacket with shiny buttons and breeches, his hair combed back into an immaculate plait and his fingers decorated with rings. Now that all of those things had been stripped away, she was left with a man that reminded who so much of who he had been before that it made her chest ache.

That man had always been quick to smile. He never hesitated to speak his mind. His hands were gentle, his words were tender, and he would have never, _ever_ broken a promise.

But that man was gone, replaced with a traitor and a coward. Heat rose in her cheeks as she came back to her senses, hands involuntarily balling into fists.

“You’re all wet,” he said again, reaching out to her.“Did you-”

“Don’t touch me,” she cut him off, jerking away from his hand.

He dropped his arm like it had been burnt. She watched as he swallowed, considering for a moment before he spoke. “Did you come here all on your own?”

“That isn’t your concern,” she breathed. Anger bubbled in her stomach at the thought of him chastising her, chasing the cold away in an instant.

“Zelda, the risk--”

“Is none of your concern,” she repeated, trying very hard to keep her tone even. “Not any more.”

He took one look at her, sopping wet with hands balled into fists and red-rimmed eyes burning with a fury beyond anything he could have possibly seen before. He shook his head, closing his eyes as he brought a tired hand to his forehead. When he spoke, his voice was muted, defeated. “This is not a conversation I’m prepared to have here.”

Zelda reached into her dress pocket, pulling a damp, folded piece of parchment out and holding it up before him. “From what I understand, this is not a conversation you were prepared to have at all.”

He sucked in a breath. “Zelda,” he began miserably, “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” she snapped, raising a finger to his face. “Don’t you _dare_ apologize. I don’t want your apologies.”

“I-”

“Is _this_ what we’ve come to, Link?!” she demanded, voice raising over his as she shook the note, trying hard to disguise her trembling. “A letter, and an escape into the night? After everything, _this_ is what I deserve?”

“Are you going to keep cutting me off, or have I lost my privilege to speak, as well?

His ardent tone shocked them both, but she would not waver now.

“Are you going to speak to me, then?” she asked, letting her arm drop to her side. “Or are going to leave me with little more than this?”

He seemed to deflate before her. Taking another heavy breath, he gestured behind him, to his room. “Will you come inside?”

“Will you run away again?”

Offense that he had no right to filled his eyes. “No.”

“All right, then,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. Sweeping up her sodden skirts, she walked past him.

He followed her, closing the door behind him. Without casting a glance in her direction, he strode past her to the far side of the bed. There, he bent down and out of sight.

“You should get dry before you catch a chill. I have clothes.” He set a familiar bundle of green on on the bed without looking up, still digging.

Her stomach knotted. A handmade gift from one of his childhood friends, he’d brought the long nightshirt when he came to the castle.  It was a scratchy looking thing, all misshapen and frayed wool and open edges. In spite of how uncomfortable it looked, he wore it to bed every night in the early days. When she’d given him silk in its stead, he’d stopped.

He hadn’t taken the silk with him, though.

“I don’t want your clothes.”

“It’s very cold.” He paused for a moment, still not looking up. “You might fall ill.”

Goddesses, there he went again.

“I do not need you to tell me what I should be doing or what might happen to me. I told you, I do not want them.”

“I’m not telling you, Zelda. I was just asking.” He finally met her gaze, and his eyes were tired. “Will you at least sit by the fire?”

Her nails dug into her palms. “I would rather stand.”

“Stand by the fire, then.”

When she made no indication of moving, he gave her a pitiful look. “Catching your death from pneumonia to spite me won’t do anyone a great lot of good,” he said softly.

“I would never do anything to spite you.”

“Then why are you acting this way?”

“Because _you_ are acting as though nothing has changed between us!”

He closed his eyes, looking away again like the coward he was. He said nothing.

“When I asked you to marry me, I did it with the utmost confidence that you were the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” Though her breath hitched, she forged on. If this was the last time she’d ever get to be alone with him, he needed to know what he had done. How she felt. “The politics were certainly optimal, but above that consideration was my own happiness. I trusted you with my life, and I thought...I thought there was no one more brave, more kind, more humble in the world. I wanted you as my life partner. When you said yes, and when we announced our engagement...there are no words to describe that bliss. But to go from that to a note.”

The battered piece of parchment was still in her hand, the words unseen but still searing pain into her soul. She didn’t need to look to remember. She’d never forget.

_"When I accepted the proposal to be your husband, I did so certain that I could provide you with every happiness. As time has gone on, I see that I can no longer do so without suffering myself. I no longer feel as though this is the right path forward for either of us. You must know that I do not take this lightly, and I ache at the thought of what you must think, but I must ask you to release me from our engagement and allow me to return home to the place where I belong…_

It might have hurt less were it in his words, but she knew just what he was doing. It was court language, the language of detached personability and empty promises. Formal and flowing and beautiful enough to disguise the harsh sting of rebuffs and refusals. She’d taught him how to write it herself.

It was so wrong to see him use it against her.

“When I read that note, I cannot even imagine the words coming from your hand. They are so _opposite_ everything I thought you felt, and to think that all the months we have shared have been under false pretense is the biggest pain of all. When did you decide this? Goddesses above, every time you told me you loved me, was that a lie?”

“No,” he said immediately, though his voice was thick. “If everything else was a lie, that’s the truth.”

 “Then why can’t I make you happy?”

 Silence stretched between them, the pounding rain on the roof above only amplifying the words he couldn’t seem to bring himself to say. But she would not relent. He wouldn’t leave her side with thin excuses and questions unanswered.

 Finally, he spoke. “You do make me happy,” he said, though he wouldn’t look at her. “If it were just about that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

 “So why are we, then?” she demanded, “Why did you think it necessary to steal off in the dead of night with nothing but a thrice-damned _note?”_  
  
“I couldn’t face you.”

 “How could you _not?”_ A part of her whispered that she was, perhaps, getting louder than was appropriate, but she ruthlessly ignored it. “We were going to get married! Have I ever given you the impression that I didn’t care what you have to say?”

 “It’s not that--”

 "Then _WHAT?”_

 “I wouldn’t have been a good husband to you!” he shouted, throwing his arms out in frustration. Though she opened her mouth immediately to refute him, he held out a hand to silence her, forging on.“What would I have done? Sit locked up in your castle as your Prince Consort? Get all dressed up every day to bump elbows with people that hate me? Fumble through my life wondering every day if I’m enough for you? That isn’t _me,_ Zelda! I’m not that person!”

 Unbidden, tears stung at her eyes as every fear she’d always been too afraid to speak of came true before her.“I never asked you to be anything but who you are!”

 “No, but everyone else has.” He scoffed, kicking at the floor. “Every day. They tell me my hair is too long or that I’m using the wrong fork or that you should be marrying one of them instead. Or I should spend less time with the guard and start learning how to run the household, since you should be focused on running the kingdom instead of picking the tablecloths for the next gala. Or that I should tell my family not to come to the capital because it might be embarrassing to you.”

 The lords and ladies in her court were always cruel to those they thought didn’t belong, but with the ease to which Link seemed to ascend to his new position, she hadn’t even bothered to give it a thought. She had believed his transition to be seamless and the court to accept him wholeheartedly.

 Little memories came back to her then, all the times when she thought she had misseen the slump in his shoulders or the curl of his lip. She had always asked him how he fared, and when she touched him, he had always come back to himself. He smiled for her and accepted her kisses and words of love. But when she turned away, did he fall out of himself again?

 How could she have possibly been blind enough to miss that?

 “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, taking a step towards him.

 “What could you have done?”

  _Reminded you how much you mattered to me. Stopped taking you for granted. Abdicated the throne and whisked you away to the seashore to have a hundred children out of the prying eyes of the kingdom._

 “I could have…I could…”

 She couldn’t have done anything. There was no way to protect him from the whispers. For all the power in her possession, she was utterly powerless.

 “Don’t do this to yourself.” He closed the gap between them in three quick strides, reaching out to hold her. She did nothing to stop him. The boiling anger that had sustained her as she ran from the castle had dissipated without a trace, and she was left with a wave of exhaustion so strong it was a marvel she could stand.

 Uncaring of her sopping clothes, he enveloped her in his arms. He smelled of woodsmoke and rain and regret. This close, she could hear his heart, and as weak of a woman as she was, the sound of it made her sob.

 “This isn’t your fault,” he murmured into her hair, “It’s mine. Were I right for you and this kingdom, all this wouldn’t have happened. One day you’ll find someone worthy of your heart.”

 She shook her head, burying her face in his chest as she clung to him. “Don’t presume to know the workings of my heart better than I do. You’re a fool.”

 “You’ll find someone who isn’t. Someone who can be your partner instead of someone you need to look after, and you’ll forget all about me.”

 “You’re a fool,” she said again, pulling away enough to look at him. “No one in this world is more worthy of my heart.”

 He smiled with such effort that her chest ached. “But there are many more worthy of the throne, and that is what you should concern yourself with.”

 There were many people among her court that would agree with him. The Queen’s consort, regardless of his lack of official power, had one of the most important positions in the kingdom. He couldn’t be just anyone. To many, the man should be politically-minded, wealthy beyond measure, and have connections that strengthened the kingdom’s defense. Her mother had been all of those things, and there wasn’t a person in Hyrule or beyond who disapproved of the match when she and her father were wed.

 But Zelda knew what a loveless marriage looked like and how her parents had both suffered. Her father had put aside his heart for what he thought was for the good of the kingdom, but with his marriage, he gave Hyrule a monarch who never once cracked a smile. He became cruel, resigned, and lonely.

 A happy monarch made a happy country. There was only one person who could make her happy.

 It was only about whether or not he would have her anymore.

 She reached up, drawing the backs of her fingers down his cheek. “When you said you loved me, did you truly mean it in the past tense?”

 “No,” he murmured without hesitation.

 “The feeling is mutual.” She blinked away the tears of relief. “I love you, my heart is yours, and the only person who gets to decide whether or not you are right to be my consort is me. But I want you to be happy, too. If there is no happiness for you with the strings attached to being my husband, I...understand. My only wish was that you had told me all this sooner.”

 “Telling you wouldn’t have made me better suited to the job.” He rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes with a heavy breath. “It only would have hurt you and prolonged this. I just thought it best to go.”

“There is no _job_. You’re perfectly suited to be my husband, and anyone who thinks otherwise can leave my court. They give me nothing.”

 “Neither do I.”

 “Look at me,” she commanded, waiting until he obeyed to be sure he understood the depth of her truth. “You give me everything.”

 She stood up on her toes to kiss him, her lips ghosting his cheek. “I know this asks much of you. But please, for everything we have, give it another chance. You won’t have to face anything alone. I promise you, if you decide it too much again, I won’t stop you from going.”

 He sucked in a breath.

 “Come back to the castle,” she pled. “Don’t leave me alone just yet.”

 When his hands found her shoulders, she thought he might push her away. But they continued their ascent, sliding up her neck and threading in her hair. Their faces inches apart, he studied her, and his gaze burned her to her core.

 “I’m sorry I ever left you alone,” he managed hoarsely.

 His lips found hers, and all the anguish in her heart melted away.

Much later, when the fire had burnt itself into embers and cast the room into darkness, Link rolled over in bed as far as his arms around her would allow to glance out the window.

 “I think it’s stopped raining,” he murmured, turning back to press a kiss to her hair.

 “ _Mmm_ ,” she hummed. She burrowed closer to his side, a greedy recipient of his warmth.

 “We can go back to the castle.”

 “ _Mmm._ ”

 He chuckled, pulling her tighter against his chest. “Have I rendered you incoherent, your highness?”

 “ _Mhm_ ,” she nodded, turning her face into his chest to disguise her smile.

 “I suppose I have to leave you here, then,” he grinned, turning to go, “To call the doctor. He’ll know how to right you.”

 She curled her legs around his, anchoring him in place. “Don’t you dare,” she grumbled. She would kill the person that interrupted this moment. The world could wait, but her happiness could not.

 “All right, but we should go back before we’re missed.”

 “We have already been missed,” she said. “It’s your fault. You get to explain to my hairdresser and my dressmaker why I got all soiled, too. I _hate_ the rain.”

 He rolled to hover over her, drawing his hand down her side with a sly smile. “The rain is the reason why I didn’t leave the city.”

 “Have I ever mentioned I love the rain?” she asked him, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and drawing him in for another kiss.

 She would gladly trade the sun away for good if it only meant that she could have this.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> While I was writing this, my roommate looked over and said, “you look so distressed, are you okay?” I was not okay. But I fixed it, didn’t I? 
> 
> Leave a word if you liked it (or if you didn’t) and follow me on tumblr at alyssawritesalot for more (shorter) stuff like this!
> 
> Seeya guys around!


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